These Whispers Will Soon Be Legends
by QueenMegaera
Summary: "Rumours" part IV. In the wake of the news regarding the sorcerer who'd been revealed at Arthur's court and the final end of Uther Pendragon's war on magic, the following scandal surrounding Queen Guinevere's affair and her bold escape from Camelot alongside her lover was almost treated like everyday gossip at Elena's court.


A/N: No, my friends, I have not abandoned this 'verse! I fear that, by now, I am incapable of doing so. This on has been in the makings since Christmas, more or less. (I'm that slow. Also, the 00Q-ship picked me up and sailed away with me.) The story below is a prequel to upcoming work, a sequel to "Horses" and a companion piece to "Winter Solstice". It was a bit difficult to write from the point of view of a character who only appeared in one single episode, but I guess that also means my hands are free, right?

Summary: In the wake of the news regarding the sorcerer in Arthur's court and the final end of Uther Pendragon's war on magic, the following scandal surrounding the Queen's affair and her bold escape from Camelot alongside her lover was almost treated like everyday gossip at Elena's court.

Pairings: established Merlin/Arthur, established Gwen/Lancelot. (And, I suppose, established Vivian/OC.)

Warnings: Spoilers for previous stories in the rumours-verse. Nothing else, really.

"And the history books forgot about us  
And the bible didn't mention us  
not even once"

- Regina Spektor, _Samson_

**These Whispers Will Soon Be Legends**

The word spread like wildfire: at courts and in cottages, incredulous voices talked of how a powerful sorcerer had not only lived in the court of Camelot for a long time, but could also continue to live there since King Arthur had lifted the more than twenty year old ban on magic which his father had imposed; a ban that had shaped the history of all of Albion for as long as it had been in place.

In the wake of such news, the following scandal surrounding the Queen's affair and her bold escape from Camelot alongside her lover was almost treated like everyday gossip at Elena's court. Nevertheless, when she heard that Guinevere and Lancelot had appeared practically at her own doorstep she took the route of precaution: she ordered the people who knew to keep quiet about it and immediately sent a sealed message to Arthur. Elena had no quarrel with the Queen, but she certainly wanted no quarrel with the King, either.

When the reply came, quickly followed by a second letter, she went to the little cottage on the outskirts of her town to deliver the message herself. She felt she owed it both to the recipient and also, more so, to the sender.

People smiled and bowed as she walked by. She was a beloved ruler, headstrong but kind.

When she knocked on the door, the walls were so thin that she could hear a chair scrape against the floor and the sound of footsteps before the door opened.

She recognised the man in the doorway, who quickly bowed with lowered eyes, from the ranks of knights that had surrounded Arthur when she had last visited Camelot a couple of years ago. Even so, if it weren't for the current scandal she wouldn't have been able to remember his name. The woman by the table, on the other hand, could hardly pass unnoticed at any court in Albion. She got up from her seat and curtseyed for Elena as if she was once more the servant girl Elena had met in passing, years ago, and not the Queen of Camelot whom Elena had herself curtseyed for more recently.

"My lady."

"Lady Guinevere," Elena greeted her. She didn't curtsy, but she did smile. "And Sir Lancelot, I presume."

"My lady," the knight replied.

Neither of them dared to speak. Perhaps they believed she was there to throw them out, or to send them back to Camelot in chains, or even to have them executed.

"Don't worry. I'm not here to do you harm. I came to deliver a message to you, Guinevere, and an offer to your knight."

"A message? Someone knows we're here?" Guinevere asked worriedly.

"I knew, and I let Arthur know," Elena admitted. "Please don't take offence, but my loyalty to my ally and good friend went first."

"Of course," Lancelot agreed.

He looked chastised. Was he still so ashamed of having betrayed his own loyalties?

"I sent the message in utmost secrecy so that he wouldn't be forced to act," Elena continued, "because I thought he might not want to. I was right. He told me he wouldn't mind that I let you stay as long as no spectacle was made of it. So far you've been admirably discreet, and the novelty of your presence seems to have begun to wear off among your neighbours."

Guinevere hid her face in her hands. Was it relief?

"They know who we are?" Lancelot asked.

"Everyone knows who you are, Sir Lancelot. Which, incidentally, is why I want to offer you the place of a knight at my court. Perhaps not quite yet, but by next autumn, at least."

Elena saw the light of hope that appeared in Lancelot's eyes, only to be quenched by some other emotion moments later.

"I couldn't. It would bring shame on your court to have a knight who ... who's broken the Knight's Code the way I have."

"A knight who lives with another man's wife, you mean?" Elena asked. Lancelot paled but didn't reply. "I suppose that would look bad. But that was my message to Guinevere – Arthur wrote a second letter, where he asked me to tell you that he releases you from all your vows to him. You're no longer married to him. You're free to start over."

Elena couldn't imagine how Guinevere felt about her news. She must have loved Arthur, once. Elena was no great expert in love, so she couldn't say whether or not that had been the emotion in Gwen's eyes when she had looked at Arthur; but for a servant girl to become queen of Camelot, something as powerful as love must surely have been involved. Elena knew Guinevere as a woman with a kind, gentle nature. She would not have been surprised if Guinevere had told her that she felt ashamed of her own betrayal, nor if she had said she was wounded by the way Arthur now discarded their marriage. On the other hand, Guinevere was the one who had faced execution and escaped in the last minute, if the stories that had reached Elena's ears were true, so if she was now scornful and relieved to be rid of her ties to Arthur, Elena wouldn't begrudge her that, either.

Elena studied the other woman, who had sat back down, her face blank, lost in thought. Whole kingdoms knew that woman's face; whole kingdoms were discussing her fate. Some painted her as a villain, the treacherous woman personified. Others spoke of her as the victim of men's whims and harsh conventions. Elena thought she looked like just another woman. Perhaps at the end of the day, Elena thought, the prospect of putting the whole thing behind her, of being able to start a new life with this man, outshone all other aspects.

oO0Oo

Lancelot accepted Elena's offer. If her knights had not known a single thing about him, the fact that he had been a knight of Camelot would have been enough to impress them – but Lancelot's reputation of greatness preceded him, and as the shadow of scandal that had been cast over his name faded, the other knights welcomed him with open arms. He was the best knight Elena's court had ever seen, and humble enough to ward off any attacks of jealousy from the others.

When the couple married, it was enough to still most of the ill-spirited whispers that had still been heard about them. Elena was there at the ceremony: a simple affair, held in a small hall in the castle where she'd attended several other of her knight's and court members' weddings.

oO0Oo

A year after the two exiles had arrived at Elena's court, Arthur began his quest to unite the kingdoms of Albion. Elena found herself thrilled at the prospect of travelling to Camelot more often; she loved the political game, and she enjoyed her correspondence with Arthur and would be glad to meet him, but she had also wanted the chance to meet Merlin again ever since she had heard who he was. Now she would get a closer look at the workings of the court of Camelot, through her own eyes and the eyes of the servants that accompanied her.

Elena remembered Merlin from her visit in Camelot, years ago: a skinny, cheeky boy who had seemed to be more of a peasant than a servant. His mannerisms and his speech indicated that he was not raised at court and hadn't adapted to how that world worked. Elena had liked that – after all, she had never adapted either.

She also remembered that Arthur had seemed loathe to let the boy out of his sight, but she suspected that might have had something to do with the fact that he hadn't wanted to be left alone with _her_.

She searched her mind for anything else she could remember about the boy – anything that in hindsight indicated that she had met a powerful sorcerer – but she came up blank. This made the whole thing even more fascinating.

She tried to imagine what she would think and feel if she found out that one of her closest handmaidens was really a sorceress. Elena didn't even believe that all magic was evil – she didn't know if Arthur had, either, but his father's opinion in the matter had been the furthest thing from a secret – but she still imagined she'd be both shocked and suspicious.

Arthur had had the boy whipped, she'd heard. She winced at the thought. She didn't approve of the more painful forms of corporeal punishment and only used those sentences in the most severe cases that were brought before her – murders, or violations of women or children. She liked to imagine that, had she been in Arthur's shoes, she would not have done the same thing. _Men_, she thought. _So rash, so quick to resort to anger_. Or perhaps that was a Pendragon trait, rather than a male one? The stories about Lady Morgana seemed to indicate so.

Yet, on the other hand, Arthur had kept the boy around – even changed his father's law. _Quick to forgive, too, then – unlike the rest of the family_. Elena didn't think she would have done that. She would have sent the boy away. It would have been too hard, to unnerving, to constantly wonder whether the person who woke you up in the mornings and turned out your lights at night was really who you had once thought they were. After all, what was a sorcerer doing at the court of Camelot? Was the boy _insane_? Surely there had been better places to go, safer places. For a magic user to remain in Camelot all that time, there must have been a _reason_. Elena guessed that Arthur had concluded that the boy wasn't a threat on account of the hundred and one opportunities to kill both Uther and Arthur that Merlin must have had and passed up over the years. That was solid reasoning, she couldn't argue with that; but surely it must be torturing Arthur, the mere _awareness_ that the boy had a motive, _must _havea motive, and that he didn't know what it was? It was frustrating to Elena, and it didn't even really concern her.

Of course, it was highly likely that whatever Merlin's motives were or had been, Arthur knew them by now. He and Merlin must have talked, put their cards on the table and moved on: the boy's position as the Camelot Court Sorcerer was all but official, after all. But _Elena_ didn't know the truth, and no one around her seemed to know either, and she was _curious_.

oO0Oo

Elena had to shake her head and laugh at herself. Old Brunhilda would have chided her for spending time on gossip, intrigue and idle speculation. "Not proper for a lady," she'd have said, although the old woman herself had relished the pastime. But Elena had a lot of time on her hands, and after all the machinations of the court of her most powerful ally did affect her, indirectly. The fact that Camelot had gone, overnight, from having the best knights in Albion to being able to defeat an entire army without even using those knights was evidence enough of that. If he could manage something like that, what else could Arthur's servant boy do?

Who cared about cheating queens; that kind of thing had happened a hundred times before and would happen a hundred times again. A kingdom that went from Uther's policy of eradicating magic at any cost to having a sorcerer as the King's right hand in only a matter of years, now, that was more than gossip: it was _news, _unprecedented news.

oO0Oo

Arthur's servant boy was no longer a servant, and no longer a boy – this was the first thing Elena could conclude for herself on her first visit to Camelot. The second was that the court was still reeling from the conflict with Morgana, the changing of the law, and the scandal of Guinevere and Lancelot. It had certainly been an eventful time for Arthur. It was hard to believe he had only been crowned King – oh, she couldn't remember, but it couldn't be more than three years ago – and already he had been forced to handle so much. Elena didn't envy him. Her own small realm was so much easier to overlook and to handle. She even knew each of her subjects by name. The size of Camelot and the lands that belonged to it was awe-inspiring, and the challenge thrilling, but in the end she preferred to live without such pressure.

Arthur on the other hand seemed to thrive. It was clear to everyone who saw him that he certainly wasn't broken down over the loss of Guinevere. He shone, happier and more at ease in his own skin than Elena had ever seen him, even if there were still troubles to be dealt with and battles to be fought both home and away. Not even the absence of the formal functions filled by a Queen, as a ceremonial figure as well as a confidante for the King, seemed to be felt by the King or by his court – instead, Arthur had his advisor, his sorcerer, his right hand.

Merlin was a fixture at court. No, that wasn't true: he was a fixture by Arthur's side. Whenever Elena visited Camelot, and over the next few years she would visit often, Merlin was a constant presence. Wherever the King was, there Merlin was also. The fondness Arthur held for him was evident – it was there in the way he let Merlin address him in ways no other member of court would have been allowed to, it was there in the way Arthur smiled at him, it was in the hand on Merlin's shoulder and the look in Arthur's eyes. Elena was no longer surprised that Merlin had been so entirely forgiven.

Getting to know Merlin for herself, however, proved difficult. He was more guarded than Arthur, but she supposed that was the effect of having had to keep secrets for so long. If the tales her servants relayed to her were true, perhaps he was still keeping a secret or two. The servants of Camelot didn't know – or maybe they just wouldn't tell – but it was _hinted_ that perhaps Arthur's lack of grief and Merlin's close relationship with the King were not entirely unrelated.

oO0Oo

Elena debated with herself, occasionally, whether she should tell Guinevere and Lancelot about this. Would they be glad to know they hadn't caused any lasting pain? Or would it be salt in the wounds, suggesting they had never mattered as much as they'd thought? She didn't know, so she held her tongue.

However, her curiosity got the better of her when, after another trip to Arthur's court, she saw Lancelot walk away from a group of knights where Sir Gottfried was no doubt regaling his brothers-in-arms with the tale of his days in Camelot for the hundredth time. She went up to him.

"Not in the mood for another tale from Camelot, Sir Lancelot?"

Lancelot smiled and bowed.

"He doesn't say so, but I believe Sir Gottfried feels his stories get upstaged when I'm there."

"Because you know the truth?"

"I wouldn't say that."

She looked at him, wondering for the hundredth time if such modesty could be real.

"What was Merlin the Sorcerer like when you knew him?" she asked.

Lancelot gave a startled little laugh.

"'Merlin the Sorcerer'?" He shook his head. "Merlin was ... he _is_ the kindest soul I've ever met. He'd help anyone who needed his help. Even when he could never hope for a reward."

"He seems to have been well rewarded now," Elena noted. "He's held in high regard in Camelot."

"I'm glad," Lancelot said. "Thank you for telling me that. When we left, it seemed there were still a lot of people who were afraid of him."

Elena looked at him. Lancelot was a hard man to read – unless he was actually as simple, good-hearted and, frankly, slightly naive as he appeared. Did he truly see nothing but goodness, nothing but light, in Merlin? Oh, Elena could see the light, too: she had observed the way he talked to the servants the same way he talked to the noblemen (even if the servants received a slightly kinder smile), and the way he always stood up for the people, not just of Camelot but of any other kingdom, too. But there was something else there alongside the light, something that put people's hair on end, something that drew all eyes towards him, something that made you wonder what he was capable of – knowing that if you didn't take into regard whatever morals and scruples the man might have, he was of course capable of absolutely anything. That kind of power was hard to contemplate. It was as if there was a god standing in the room, and a little voice in the back of your head kept asking: _the god of what?_

Elena had seen people stop as if they had been turned to stone when Merlin walked down the streets of Camelot. She had seen people walk up to him with admiration and awe in their eyes, and she had seen others turn and hide, shaking, in their doorways. She had heard people praise him profusely and she had seen people spit at the ground he'd walked on when he'd passed. Arthur was loved by the people. Merlin was ... something new. He was the silhouette of an actor hiding behind the curtain, waiting to step onto the stage; the beginning of a story not yet fully told. She felt it in her bones whenever she saw him, now: there was still much more to him than met the eye.

"I'd say there are probably still a lot of people who have_ reason_ to be afraid of him," Elena said, diplomatically.

"Only the enemies of Camelot."

Lancelot seemed very convinced of this. Elena pushed on:

"Or to be more specific, the enemies of Arthur, perhaps?"

"Maybe," Lancelot agreed. "Merlin's loyalty to Arthur ... It's a loyalty so powerful I must confess not even a knight of Camelot could fully understand it. I know I couldn't."

Loyalty – was that the word, Elena wondered? There was another word on her lips, but she didn't dare speak it. Anyway, she wasn't sure yet.

"Arthur's lucky to have a friend like that," she said.

"Indeed."

oO0Oo

About five years after Lancelot and Guinevere had fled to Elena's kingdom, representatives from all the kingdoms gathered in Camelot for the winter solstice to negotiate a unification of Albion.

The negotiations were not entirely successful. Elena found herself exasperated by the way certain grumpy old men were resisting what would obviously come to pass: Albion would unite into one kingdom under Camelot and Arthur Pendragon. Just not quite yet, it seemed. Still, the fact that they were negotiating was a miracle in itself, and a few agreements were signed, and eventually the negotiations gave way to the celebration of the winter solstice.

Elena enjoyed the game that they'd played in the council chambers, but she certainly enjoyed the banquet and the music and the evergreen decorations, too. The great hall shone with green holly, golden decorations, and Pendragon red. It was a sight to behold. But when she congratulated Arthur on the arrangements, his eyes were elsewhere.

"It's a splendid party," she said.

He didn't even hear her, and she followed his gaze to where Merlin was standing. The sorcerer was speaking to a knight she thought must be Guinevere's brother, and a woman dressed in a plain but well-made dark green dress – the court physician, if Elena remembered correctly. Merlin looked splendid in blue and gold. The party or the wine had put some colour in his otherwise pale face, his hair looked blacker than the night, and he kept turning to look at Arthur every now and then, smiling ever so slightly every time their eyes met – as if he tried to stop himself from looking too happy, but couldn't. Elena might not be an expert in love, but by now she'd seen enough lovers look at each other over crowded rooms as if nothing else in the world mattered to recognise that look. She smiled and took a sip of wine. She suddenly felt far more at ease with the sorcerer's power. It helped to know, for sure at last, that it wasn't the greatest power at work in the room.

"Your Majesty? Arthur?"

This time he heard her. Arthur was still a fairly young man, but when he turned around he looked positively like a little boy trying to pretend he hadn't been caught with his hand in the jam jar. The look was only there for a moment, then he was his regal self again, but Elena had seen it, and it warmed her heart.

It also made her feel deeply smug.

"I was saying what a wonderful job your court has done in arranging this celebration," she said as Vivian and her husband walked up to them. "I can't think of anything that's missing."

She could see Arthur study her, as if he was trying to gauge how much he had revealed to her.

"Thank you. I'll pass on the compliments to where they're due."

They exchanged smiles and he seemed to relax.

"Please do," she replied.

Vivian immediately chimed in, as if she'd been standing there all along.

"But there is one thing missing from all this splendour," she said with a smile.

"And what would that be?" Arthur asked.

"A hostess. How long has it been since Lady Guinevere left? Four years? Five? You're still young and handsome, Arthur. You should get remarried!"

Of course Vivian would have to go and spoil the mood, Elena thought testily as she watched Arthur's smile flicker and fade for just a moment.

"I don't think so," he said.

"Why not?" Vivian asked. "Love is the only cure for a broken heart you know."

Elena had to smile at Vivian's cluelessness – and at the way Arthur's eyes flickered sideways, not quite looking in Merlin's direction.

"Then I would have to wait for love, and not run towards marriage," Arthur answered.

Vivian was just about to say something else, when it was announced that the banquet would be served and they all went to their seats. A couple of hours later, however, Elena found herself surrounded by the same people, with the addition of Merlin himself.

This time it was Adric, Vivian's husband, who made the faux pas:

"I admit that I believe any man deserves a wife whom he loves and who loves him back," he said, "but I wonder, what will happen if you do not marry? All this work you've put down to bring the kingdoms together, we all know it will end with you becoming king of Albion or nothing at all."

Elena was pleased to note she wasn't the only one who saw this as the inevitable – and preferable – outcome.

"If you have no heir," Adric continued, "then when you die, all that work might have been for nothing."

Arthur took a swig out of the traditional tankard of mead he was holding. Elena could almost see the wheels turning in his head, attempting to find a way to reply without giving away the answer.

"I will find a way to secure the future of Albion. As your wife said, I'm not old and decrepit quite yet."

Vivian and Adric laughed politely, and Elena pretended to join them, but she couldn't help wondering if Arthur really had a plan or not. Adric was right – uniting Albion would be next to pointless if it only lasted for one generation.

"You haven't given up hope about that one right woman, then?" Adric asked, glancing down at a smiling Vivian. Elena couldn't decide if the two of them were just sweet, or sickeningly so. Merlin looked at Arthur, and Elena thought she detected worry mixed in with the curiosity in his eyes.

Arthur smiled at them all.

"No, I can't say I have, since I never hoped for it in the first place. I do not intend to marry again."

Elena smiled, shocked but pleased by his frankness.

"But surely it must get lonely," Vivian said, "ruling all of Camelot on your own, carrying the burden without any one to support you, to turn to – to do all the hard work?"

This time Elena laughed in earnest, along with everyone else.

"Don't be silly," Merlin chimed in with a wicked grin, "that's what he has me for."

Arthur laughed. It was a joy to see it.

Elena would have liked to know how much truth there was in Merlin's self-assured statement, but she thought it was time to change the subject while they were on a good note.

"Merlin," she interrupted, "a little bird whispered in my ear that you might show us a few tricks before sunrise?"

While Merlin seemed to cringe at the word "tricks", he gladly accepted the new topic and began to tell her and the others all about the plans for the rest of the evening. Elena sipped her mead. It struck her that she had never stood so close to a sorcerer before – but then again, maybe she had? Who could really tell? After all, she would never have thought Merlin was a sorcerer when she first met him, and now here he was, exuding power in an almost palpable way, capturing everyone's attention.

She caught Arthur looking at her with a grateful smile, and winked back. He studied her for a moment, perhaps taken off guard, but then returned his gaze to Merlin.

oO0Oo

Later, when the music began to play, she danced with Arthur, and in the privacy of floating across the hall, Elena decided to broach the subject she'd been dying to discuss.

"So I gather you have regained your resistance towards marriage?" she asked.

Arthur took a second to answer.

"Merlin once told me that people should marry for love," he said, guardedly.

"Quite right!" Elena replied. "I couldn't agree more. I suppose that was when you were about to marry me?"

"It was."

Interesting – had Arthur's reluctance to leave Merlin behind been about more than Elena's undesirable company after all, back then? But then, where did that leave Guinevere? Elena chose her words carefully.

"And from what happened later," she said, "I suppose the reason you didn't marry me was not only what you said that day, but also that you were already in love ... with a servant."

"With Guinevere," Arthur said.

Elena smiled. Guinevere had been his flame in the past then, it seemed.

"But it's not about Guinevere anymore, is it?"

"No," Arthur admitted.

They danced in silence for a while. Elena couldn't come up with a way to continue her questioning without crossing a very distinct line. On the other hand, she wasn't sure a continuation was needed.

"Do you think it's inappropriate?" Arthur suddenly said, wiping away any shred of doubt that might still have lingered in Elena's mind.

She considered the question for a moment.

"I think it certainly could have been, if you hadn't handled it right," she said. "I think you're doing the right thing, being discreet about it."

"Yet you had us figured out in a heartbeat."

Arthur looked nervous. Elena considered telling him that it had in fact taken her several years.

"Yes," she agreed, "but that someone notices the way you look at each other is far from being the same thing as flaunting it." She kept herself from mentioning that Vivian and Adric certainly hadn't seemed to notice a thing. "I don't think things like this are as much about not letting anyone know, as they are about showing people that you care about their opinion. A king – or a queen – who completely disregards the values and traditions of their people is not fit to reign. Neither is one who follows it blindly even though he disagrees with it."

Arthur smiled.

"That was very diplomatic answer, Princess Elena. I think perhaps I should let you lead these negotiations."

She laughed.

"Aren't you going to ask if I think you should marry?" she said a while later, laughter still in her voice. As doubtful and insecure as Arthur had looked, she had thought that was where the conversation was going.

"No," Arthur quickly replied.

"Why not?"

"Well, as I said: Merlin told me to marry for love. And I've found that my life is a lot easier when I follow Merlin's advice."

Their eyes met, and they began to laugh at the exact same moment. Yes, Elena had no trouble imagining that Merlin could make sure his advice was being followed – without resorting to magic at all. At this point, the mead in her belly and the late hour combined to push away any thought about how this might be dangerous or frightening. She had seen the two men smile at each other, and she was happy for them. The fact that they both held the fate of Albion in their hands didn't come into play here.

_Not as long as they get along, anyway, _she thought, and a tiny shiver made its way up her spine despite the alcohol haze.

"So, what is your plan?" she asked.

"My plan?"

"For putting an heir on the throne of Camelot. You must have thought about it."

"I have. And it will not be an heir of my blood. But Camelot has gathered the best knights in Albion for decades. One of them would do more than fine."

"He would have to be trained, first. You would have to make the court accept him. You would have to make sure the other knights felt comfortable about one of their own suddenly becoming their prince, and eventually their king."

"Of course. And I'm not saying it will be easy. But it will work."

"Do you have someone in mind?"

"Not yet. Why? Do you think I look like I'm dying?" he said jokingly.

But Elena wasn't joking.

"We're royalty, Arthur. You never know when there's someone standing behind the corner ready to snatch the crown off your dead skull."

Arthurs' smile faded.

"Yes. I've thought about it. But there's no one, yet. The best of my knights are all my age or older. The younger ones ..." he began with a sneer, and then he trailed off. He sighed. "We're not getting old yet, are we? Am I becoming one of those grumpy old men who can't see anything good in the younger generation?"

Elena laughed and Arthur smiled again.

"The young knights are good knights," Arthur continued. "I just can't see anyone who stands out. Someone who has the right ... the right view of what leadership means, of our responsibility to the people. Knights are used to thinking they'll die for the people; I'm not so sure they know how to live for them."

oO0Oo

The night wore on with endless celebrations, until after many hours they gathered on the freezing courtyard to watch the sun rise again after the longest night of the year, and then, cold, tired and pleased, walked off to their bedchambers to sleep at last.

Elena slept long and well, and didn't wake up until the afternoon sun was streaming in through the window. By the time she was dressed and had eaten breakfast her party was already getting ready to move on home. She walked out into the courtyard to watch them load the wagons, and found Arthur standing at the top of the stairs by the big gates, studying the hustle and bustle below.

"It was a good meeting," she said, and he turned around and smiled at her.

"It went about as well as could be expected," he said. "But I appreciated your support in there. I hope it will be more rewarding next time. I think we have planted some seeds, at least."

His tone was apologetic, but his face shone, his smile stayed on, and there was a distant look in his eyes.

"You don't look like it was an unproductive meeting," Elena pointed out. "You look as happy as if you'd been elected King of Albion already.

Arthur let out a short laugh.

"I don't think happiness will be my first reaction if _that _happens. Relief, possibly. Mixed with a healthy dose of fear. But it seems we'll have to wait a long time for that day." He nodded at the carriages being readied for departure on the courtyard below."I don't know what it will take to get some of these old codgers to change their minds."

"Maybe you should look for the 'Sword in the Stone'," Elena joked.

Arthur frowned.

"What's that?"

"From what I've heard, there was an ancient legend that, somewhere in the deepest woods that surround Camelot, there is a sword stuck in a stone, and that the person who pulls it out is destined to rule over all Albion. Apparently, the legend was all but forgotten when someone actually found the place, about a year ago."

Arthur's frown only deepened.

"That's ridiculous. If it was true, I would have heard of it when I was a little boy, or read about it in the library when I began my studies. I've studied every legend of Camelot that there is. I've never heard anything about a sword in a stone."

Elena shrugged.

"Well, I'm not very well-versed in mythology. Maybe you should ask your resident sorcerer."

Arthur glanced up at the castle above, and Elena saw a glimpse of a pale face behind a window. _Arthur's window._

"Maybe I will," Arthur said.

One of Elena's maidservants came up to her and told her they were ready to head home. Elena looked at Arthur. There was one more thing she had meant to tell him, but she hesitated, fearful of bearing news that would cast a shadow on his apparent happiness if it wasn't necessary to do so. Instead, she smiled and bid her farewells, and headed to her carriage. As she stepped up into it, she turned for a second to look up at Arthur's window again. Merlin was still there. He stood with his arms crossed, leaning on the windowsill, not so far out that he'd be clearly visible from the courtyard but enough for Elena to see his face from this angle. He met her eyes, and seemed to smile. Elena shivered, and had the strange experience of feeling warm and cold at the same time. But she smiled back, and watched Merlin's smile broadening, chasing her fears away once more.

She couldn't wait to be back.

THE END

A/N: To be continued in an upcoming story. I.e. NOT HERE, so no point in subscribing to this story!.


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